Me after reading Salinger at 17

#stormyshapes

If everything I do is meaningless,

should I strive to wake up

if what I truly desire

is to stay asleep?

Should I go for a run this morning

and make myself a cup of coffee?

Wear a tie and shoes

with a leather belt?

How much control do I have over gravity?

How much do my eyes see reality?

What's the point of fighting if I know the battle

will never be won?

What's the point of saying I love you

if the feeling will fade away,

what's the point of hugging you

if your body is made of sand?

What's the point of writing this,

what's the point of loving a text.

Pre-adolescent nihilism,

persistent cinism.

Pics are mine :)